


THE FIRST PRESIDENTIAL DEBATE

by orphan_account



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: #help, #it was a dare, #slow burn, #what, M/M, NO SERIOSULY, i’m not used to archive formatting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26734210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: they are in love
Relationships: Joe Biden/Donald Trump
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	THE FIRST PRESIDENTIAL DEBATE

**Author's Note:**

> i am so sorry for this

“Do you have any idea what this *clown* is doing?”

As soon as Biden had spoken, he knew he had effed up. Immediately, he adjusted his stance, a slight blush forming on his face as he glanced over to Trump, who stood stammering out incoherent words with a look of both betrayal and disbelief on his face.

Biden had *dreaded* the Debate up from the moment he had realized he was to be forced to fight not only with his current President but… his lover. Biden and Trump had been dating (in secret, of *course*), for close to *seven* months — since the beginning that the mandatory quarantine had been put in place, in fact; all the late nights he said to his wife, Jill, he was working at his office nothing more than simple lies to cover up the nights Biden spent waking up in Donald’s bedroom.

Putting his hands up, Biden immediately jumped to his own defense, as his secret lover jumping to his own; the pair unable to finish a sentence as their words overlapped. 

“Hey, hey, let me tell *you*,” Trump began, flushing a deeper shade of orange (no thanks to his spray tan of course) as he put a hand up, one hand left on the podium gripping it with all the strength he could muster. Trump wanted *nothing* more than to end the debate and to leave with Biden; his star-struck lover — his Yin to his Yang — his sun to his moon — the only star in his sky. He couldn’t *bare* to talk over Biden, *especially* knowing what he would do to him *later* on in the night in the privacy of Donald’s room. *Lord have mercy on me,* Trump thought, before he continued. “N-n-no, look, what I *said* was-”

But the President was cut off by the annoyed tone of the show host who simply asked him to allow Biden to continue; to which he complied with all too quickly, Biden nodding and giving thanks towards the host — all the while sending a knowing look towards Trump.

Though even as Biden continued his statement, Trump couldn’t help but continue fuming at the level of “disrespect” the host seemed to be giving him all throughout the Debate; even much earlier when his oh-such-special lover Biden talking over him as Trump was all but forced to continue purely for political reasons when the host had asked, “Mr. President, could you let him finish?”

With a smirk and a glance towards his lover, Trump almost immediately responded, “You’d be surprised… oh you’d be surprised.”

Trump but couldn’t help but feel anxiety creeping up on him; had people realized what he had meant? Did everybody else *know* what was going on between them? Had they ridden into the sexual connotation, or was he simply just overreacting? Even he himself couldn’t tell, as the night continued on with the same familiar anxiety plaguing his every thought.

— 

The Debate had just ended; it was late in the night, and Trump couldn’t help but feel a sickening feeling in his stomach as he stared up at his ceiling. Biden had left Cleveland with Jill to their home Greenville, Delaware; a large property which was one of the 4 that Biden owned, though it neared nothing close to the number of properties Trump owned. Trump had kicked Melania out of *his* room (which he felt he needed to specify) as per usual, as he waited in the dark, for something, *anything* from his starstruck lover; as with the buzz of his phone, he finally received it.

Desperate for anything, Trump rolled over in his bed, almost tumbling off as he reached for his personal phone, taking it in his stubby little hands as he read the message that now sat on the President’s screen:

**Babe <3**: Hey bb sorry it took so long to message I was busy with the Press Conference after, U OK? U seemed stressed when you left.

Even with such a simple message, Trump felt his fears and worries dissolve away, as he smiled to himself like a schoolgirl and rolled onto his back, beginning to formulate his reply, though, the response taking a rather pitiful turn as his smile turned into the same look of sadness and betrayal he had adorned back in the Debate Room.

**Me**: im fine joe, just hurt, why would you call me a clown?  
**Me**: i would never call you a clown.

It wasn’t long before Trump got his response.

**Babe <3**: Wait bb you’re still hurt about that? I’m sorry babe I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, it was purely for the audience.  
**Babe <3**: What can I do to make it up to you?

Trump smiled at the messages; he knew he shouldn’t have, but a sense of Euphoria washed over him upon the confirmation that Biden didn’t truly feel that way about him. The smile melting back onto his face, his stubby little fingers pressed the screen as he grew progressively more excited.

**Me**: you can come over ;)  
**Babe <3**: Babe you know I can’t, Jill will know that I’m not leaving for the office this time.  
**Me**: and? whats so bad about that? maybe she should know ;)  
**Babe <3**: NO!  
**Babe <3**: Are you hearing yourself babe!  
**Babe <3**: I’m not just about to throw everything away because you want to meet up, I’ve been at your house all month!

Trump paused, reading the message as he squinted to get a better look, trying to enunciate Biden’s most recent text, though, upon realizing what it meant, he gave a scowl and threw his phone across the room. Biden was right! They couldn’t just risk *everything* they had together in order for Trump’s worries to be cured!

Trump looked back up to his ceiling, not used to the feeling of being the only one in his bed; closing his eyes, he imagined, if even just a wicked dream of his, that it wasn’t the emptiness of his bedroom that met him, but his lover, Biden, instead; the sharp crook of his nose nestled into his neck as Biden hummed the lyrics to *Sweater Weather* by The Neighborhood, whilst playing with Trump’s hair. Biden over the years had begun to come in tune with his love for both his wife Jill and his current affair Trump; he felt genuine *love* for both his wife and the President, yet knew that if he were to leave Jill that he would never recover — yet, if he *bound* himself to an eternity without Trump, Biden would surely have gone insane by now. Biden never shared these sentiments with Trump though, of course, he knew that Trump was always... *jealous* of his wife.

Though, perhaps it was this sentiment that drove Biden to call Trump’s number; the President immediately regretting having thrown his phone and throwing off the sheets as he waddled over to the phone which never lay by the foot of his bed.

“Joe?” Trump immediately asked, relieved to hear a grunt of recognition from the other end of the line.

“Donny,” Biden began, almost stammering over this own words as he hurried to get his words out, “Look I’m sorry for what I said earlier-”

“No, no, Joe, it’s okay,” Trump said, cutting across his lover despite his wish to hear Biden and only Biden. “I know, it was dumb of me to expect you to leave your wife just like that.”

Trump waited expectantly for an answer, half annoyed at the silence at the other end of the line when he heard a creak of the floorboards out in the hallway.

“Joe…?” Trump asked, swallowing as he took a step back, putting the call on speakerphone, “Joe, is that you?”

To be continued… ;)


End file.
